Nerves of Steel
by justanothercrazybrunette
Summary: In which Courf is not nearly as smooth as he would like people to think and moving to Uzbekistan is looking like a valid life choice. {Modern day AU. Same universe as A Difference of Opinions} Jehan/Courf


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Les Mis

* * *

Courfeyrac is nervous. This is not that common of an occurrence, really, but he thinks on this specific occasion he is justified in _being terrified out of his ever-loving mind._ Because let's be honest here, there are so many ways that this could go completely horribly wrong.

And his friends were about as helpful as rocks. Possibly less so.

Eponine and Grantaire had laughed in his face when he had tried to explain to them why this was such a bad idea. To be fair though, he probably shouldn't have expected them to be sympathetic when it came to unrequited love. Or sympathetic period.

Marius had simply told him that there was no way that anything Courf said could be worse than his first confession to Cosette. Which was very true, especially considering Marius had _yelled _his confession to Cosette across Luxemburg Park and then run away. At the time Courfeyrac had found the entire situation hilarious. He was beginning to understand the very tempting desire to run though.

It wasn't that he was unsure in his convictions. Courfeyrac was very sure. He was in love with Jean Provaire –more commonly referred to as Jehan. The problem came up when Courfeyrac realized how _wrong _this confession could go.

Because Jehan was also one of Courfeyracs closest friends, and if his feelings were unreciprocated and Courf ended up making a fool of himself it could make things very awkward for the rest of forever.

He was begging to understand how Grantaire had managed to avoid saying anything about his feelings for Enjolras at even his most intoxicated.

Still, he knew he had to do it. Otherwise he would end up like Marius and spew his feelings for Jehan everywhere at the most inappropriate time. The conversation would probably be something like, "Jehan, please pass the mustard also I am in love with you." And then he would have to change his name and move to Uzbekistan in an attempt to escape from the shame.

Really, it was better if he just got this over with.

Courfeyrac climbs the stairs to Jehan's apartment as slowly as possible. This does not stop his heart from hammering as though he's been running marathons. When he reaches Jehan's door he hesitates and knocks. He's come this far, and really backing out now would be cowardly.

When no one answers after several long moments Courfeyrac knocks again. This time it takes about three seconds before the door is thrown open to reveal Jehan. His dark hair is a mess and he is sporting a painfully green sweater with pink ice cream cones on it. If it wasn't so ridiculously Jehan the sweater would make Courf want to cry.

"I'm sorry, Courf! I just finished a poem and I didn't even realize someone knocked! You haven't been waiting long, have you?"

Courfeyrac takes a deep breath and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. "Not at all. Can I, uhm, can I come in?"

The small poet frowns, "Of course," he says as he leads Courfeyrac into the apartment. They sit down on the threadbare couch and Jehan asks, "Is something wrong? You seem nervous…"

Courf smiles a little to himself –of course Jehan would pick now to be observant, and replies, "No, no I'm fine. Everything's fine. I was just wondering …I mean to say, would you like to get a coffee with me?"

This is not going the way Courfeyrac had hoped.

Jehan brightens immediately "Of course! We can head over to the Musain right now, just let me get my –"he freezes half way through the process of standing up and turns his wide eyes on Courfeyrac.

_Oh no, _Courf thinks, _he's realized it. He realized what he's agreed to and now he's going to hate me forever. I should have bought a ticket to Uzbekistan._

Instead of declaring his hatred for Courfeyrac, Jehan lets out a wordless wail and puts his hands over his eyes, "Oh no! We had a meeting didn't we? Oh Courf, you should have just called me!" he begins to move about the room collecting everything he might possibly need and continues, "Is Enjolras mad? Of course he's mad! I didn't mean to miss a meeting! But I got distracted by the poem and then –"

"There isn't a meeting." Courfeyrac says, cutting across Jehan's rambling (which, he knows from experience can last a while. It's actually pretty adorable.) "Or, if there is I have not been informed of it." He adds.

Jehan stops his flurry of movement and looks at him, "There's not?" he lets out a relieved breath and smiles at Courf which does unhealthy things to his heart., "Oh. Okay." He frowns slightly and adds, "Why were you so nervous then?"

Courf runs his hand through his hair and lets out a shutter breath. He can do this. Really.

"Well, you see, when I said coffee, what I really wanted to say was," he sighs again, "Jehan would you like to go on a date? With me?"

Jehan stares at him again, but this time he looks considerably less like he is about to be hit by a car. Courfeyrac takes this to be a good sign.

He's proven right when Jehan grins and wraps his arms around him in a hub, "I would love to!"

* * *

No one is at all surprised when Courf shows up at the next meeting holding Jehan's hand.

Jehan is, however, very surprised when Eponine sets a cupcake down in front of the two of them and smiles knowingly.

When Courfeyrac sees her high five Grantaire he resolves to never go to them with his problems ever again.


End file.
